


Suburbia

by TheMockingCrows



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Adorable family shenanigans, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Spanking, fanon Bro instead of canon Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 13:21:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30106590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMockingCrows/pseuds/TheMockingCrows
Summary: When Bro Strider moves to the suburbs with eight year old Dave, he's expecting a new life for them to begin. What he isn't expecting is the HOA, the ins and outs of neighborhood gossip, or the hot DILF sighting in the grocery store to go anywhere remotely in his direction. He'll have to think fast and adjust on the fly if he wants this new beginning to not be a quick bad end.
Relationships: Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider/Dad Egbert
Comments: 9
Kudos: 37





	Suburbia

If anyone had told Bro that he’d have a kid someday to tend, he’d have said they were out of their minds. Children weren’t something that he really cared for or wanted in life, let alone something that he expected given his preferences. Yet one thing had led to another one night with someone he was close to at the time, and not long afterwards Dave appeared in his life. He’d barely been old enough to take care of himself, let alone an infant, yet he’d done what he could and adjusted. It had been difficult, balancing the milestones of his own life with raising Dave, but he’d scraped together a living for them and made that apartment feel like a home.

A strictly non-traditional home, but it was home.

If anyone had told Bro that he’d leave the city at any point in his life, he also would’ve called bullshit. The city was where everything happened, where his gigs were, where the best food was. The city had a heartbeat all its own that you could feel walking down the street, coming alive with every breath from first thing in the dark hours of dawn till the barely visible stars were rising overhead. 

… Yet, once again, he had been dealt a strange card that he hadn’t expected. Dave’s school district was shit, he was slowly learning, and with that was coming new problems. Though highly intelligent in his own right, Dave struggled in the classroom in multiple ways that weren’t being addressed properly by anyone in a position to help him. The amount of times his kid was frustrated nearly to tears over something that had happened in class, or the bits of homework he was sent home with, was a lot to try dealing with while juggling his own workload. Fights broke out often between him and other kids, and while Dave knew how to defend himself, that wasn’t something that he should have had to deal with so often. Bro wished for the family aspect everyone else seemed to have, the support to fall back on, the helping hands waiting to pick up the slack. For them? They just weren’t there.

As Dave fell further and further behind his peers, slowly getting to the point that the tense parent teacher conferences were strongly hinting at him needing to repeat a grade, Bro knew he had a choice to make. It was a lot easier said than done, but he knew how to make it. Apartment hunting had changed quickly to house hunting once he realized that, yes, he could actually afford that now. With house hunting came freedom to find better districts, better opportunities. A longer drive when he had gigs, sure, but it would be worth it if it helped Dave out.

Then, late one night on the futon, he’d found a place. One of a dozen cookie cutter perfect houses in a well laid out neighborhood, shining with fresh paint. This wasn’t in an old district, or a brand new development, but everything was perfect outside and in. There was room for both of them to grow, plenty of storage. A yard with a nicely structured privacy fence.

Jesus, a fucking yard, what a concept.

The advertisement promised peace and quiet, access to a great school district with good reviews, and a homeowners association that kept the neighborhood orderly, and a decent way to get to the highways as needed.

Dave sat beside him playing a video game, faced screwed up in concentration, shades hanging off the collar of his shirt. The screen flashed as he wiped out but failed to glitch, leading to irritated noises and a reset.

“Hey. What d’you think about this place, huh?”

“Kinda busy.”

“Busy fuckin’ up, I know, but seriously. What about this place?” Bro asked, flipping his phone around to show pictures Dave’s direction, scrolling through some of the images with his pointer finger once he was sure those red eyes were trained in the right place.

“...I dunno. Looks like a house,” Dave said noncommitted. Despite all the problems, he was wary about leaving the familiar cityscape, the familiar apartment he’d spent his entire life in. Change could be fun and exciting for other people, yeah, but he was pretty content to stay in one spot. It was hard being eight, and nobody understood. 

“Looks like a bomb ass house,” Bro corrected, turning his phone around. “...I think this is the one, little dude. Sorta screams suburbia, it’d be like in the movies.”

“Uh huh,” Dave said, entranced again by trying to get as many points as he could before wiping out in just the right way to clip through a structure for more. 

Bro put in a request for a tour, and within a week had placed a bid. By the end of the month, it was final: they’d gotten the house, and it was time to uproot everything in their lives and shove it into cardboard boxes for the move. Convincing a sulky eight year old to pack all his toys and junk into boxes was a herculean effort, Bro soon realized, but with enough time they managed to get everything ready for the movers to shove it all into the van. Dave was the last thing out of the apartment, standing at the window watching the birds fly around over the cityscape as the afternoon sun shone bright orange and red against the smog. Bro had to nudge him out and down the stairs before finally locking up himself, taking a moment to be sentimental.

It was really happening. They were really leaving everything, weren’t they? No, it was just memories, and those were coming along for the ride.

Buckled up and ignoring the jams Bro had put on over the speakers, Dave pressed his nose against the fogging glass of the window and watched the other cars as they hurtled down the highway and the city got further and further away. Exits became more spaced out. Trees appeared, and wide spaces of green, bluer sky as the smog thinned. It was all kind of foreign to him.

“Are we gonna live in the country now?” Dave asked suddenly.

“What? Dude, no. You saw the pictures of the house, did that look like the fuckin’ country?”

“We’re so far away from everything, though…”

“Country is country, we’re gonna be in the suburbs. Lotsa people live in the suburbs. You’ll like it there, there’s prolly all kindsa kid shit to get up to that you couldn’t at the apartment.”

“I got up to plenty.”

“I know. All by yourself. I mean kid shit with other kids. Friends. Y’know. Friends?”

“I had friends!”

“Uh huh, name’em and why they never came over.”

“.....WE LIVED ON THE TOP FLOOR, d’you think anyone wanted to walk all those stairs?” Dave cried, looking over.

“We did every day, and you could’ve gone over to someone else’s place too. Point bein’ now you can like. Play outside. Grass. It’ll be like havin’a park square of our own without the cops turnin’ up every ten minutes or creeps tryin’ to offer you soda the second I turn around.”

“You ever live in the suburbs?” Dave asked, leaning against the door again, startling then Bro clicked the automatic lock button and the mechanism thunked down into place. “Why are you so big on’em if we’ve only ever lived in the city?”

“Because the city was my thing when I was growin’ up. Then it was our thing when you turned up. And now the suburbs’ll be our thing, ‘cause I can fuckin’ afford a nice house and it’d be stupid to pay three times as much for somethin’ not nearly as good in the heart of the city where the school district still sucks ass.”

“It really is my fault we’re movin’ then,” Dave mumbled, softly enough that Bro was almost convinced he’d misheard it. He reached over and turned the radio off, then reached a hand over and whacked the back of Dave’s head with his fingertips.

“Kid. It ain’t your damn anything that we’re movin’, I should’ve done this sooner but I was so caught up in the routines it never occured to me that it was even an option now,” he said, chancing a glance over before looking ahead again. “I spent so long just gettin’ that apartment and then makin’ it livable for us that I didn’t wanna give up the safety net. But now the cord’s cut, I’m a free man. We both are.”

Dave didn’t look very convinced, rubbing the back of his head and staring at Bro for a few moments before clicking his pointed shades against the window once again to return to his sulk.

...Give him some time, Bro thought to himself. Give the kid some time to adjust, his whole world just changed. Kids bounce back fast from shit, give him some time and he’ll thrive in no time.

Please, God, just let him thrive.

  
  
  


\- - - - - - - - - - - -

  
  
  


While everything had arrived in one piece, nothing broken in their cases and boxes and wrapped packages that wasn’t broken in some way already, it sure looked like there should have been more boxes. Then again, going from a one bedroom apartment flat to a house was a big change. Even though the place had been packed end to end with belongings, it still wasn’t enough to fill a house by any means. Guess they’d get to be doing some shopping in the near future.

They ate pizza on the living room floor for dinner after making sure Dave’s bed got set up in his new room and some clothes and belongings were dragged out to make the place feel less like a showroom home. Bro was mentally wondering what size mattress to get himself for his own room (holy fuck,  _ his own room _ ) after so long on the futon, and what kind of bedding to get after shooing Dave off to brush his teeth and go to bed. What color? What options did he even have? Did he want to go the homemaker route and make shit match? What was interior decorating? Was Feng Shui important? Who did he have to suck off to get information about this, was there some kind of education he’d missed out on that explained all of this or were some people just left in the dark on purpose?

To the fucking internet it was.

Bro fell asleep with a pinterest board crammed with a bunch of random things on his phone, long legs draped over the futon’s end and heels planted on the carpet. He woke with a crick in his neck, a sore back, and a kid snoozing on his chest as if he owned the place, familiar smelling bedding dragged down from upstairs and covering them both in an uneven wad.

Guess the new bedroom was a no go for the first night. Whatever, they’d figure it out.

“Dave.”

“Mhh.”

“Dave. Wake up.”

“S’saturday…”

“It’s a fuckin’ Tuesday and you weigh a ton, get offa me runt,” Bro grunted, shoving an arm to the side and tipping Dave off the short distance to the ground with a thud before sitting upright and taking a deep breath. When his back gave an eager crack as soon as he stretched, he knew he was in for a long day.

“Alright. Fuck there’s so much to do today.. Gotta get you signed up at the new school, gotta get like. Food.”

“We got pizza!” Dave said groggily, rubbing at his face before feeling around on the ground for his shades.

“Yeah, and that won’t last forever. We need like. Stocked cabinets and shit, y’know?”

“There’s too many cabinets here anyway, just put the swords where they’re s’posed to go and put the food we brought with u-”

“Dave, we’ve got a pack of ramen and that’s about it. We need to hit a store up.”

After some cold pizza and deciding they could get away with wearing the same clothes after the febreeze treatment, Bro grabbed the folio with Dave’s papers and tried to write up a list of things they could get to stock the fridge with that he could handle. Dave was right, there were too many cabinets here. They didn’t have that many cooking supplies to begin with, and now there was suddenly a huge amount of space for more supplies, for spices, for canned and dry goods, for frozen things. Hell, the fridge was brand new like the other appliances, easily twice the size of the old one, and didn’t have a single throwing star embedded in the front yet. They could fit their old kitchen and then some into this one, and there was even a dining room.

A dining room. What the fuck. Who even used a dining room. Not them, that was for fuckin’ sure, they were highly experienced knee diners. ...He mentally added a dining room table and chairs to the list of shit he’d shell out for in the coming weeks and sighed. He’d seen enough tv and movies to know the jist of what was expected to be in a house, and he didn’t want to fuck up the brand new thing by looking like the inexperienced fool that he was.

After some google searching for directions, they locked up and made their way to the elementary school, a long, flat, unassuming building surrounded by landscaped shrubbery. The windows were filled with colorful decorations and class projects, and Bro could see some of the classrooms from the outside. Crestview Elementary was emblazoned near the parking lot on a sign.

“I don’t wanna go in,” Dave said. “Can I just stay in the car?”

“C’mon kid you’ll be goin’ here by next week, they’ll be tellin’ us where the bus stop and shit is too.”

“ _ I have to ride the bus _ ?” Dave asked, looking scandalized. “Buses are for field trips!”

“Suburbs, dude. Lotsa kids ride the bus. There’s kids in our neighborhood, no doubt you’ll make some friends that live in the area on the bus,” Bro said, pulling out Dave’s papers and thumbing through them to make sure he didn’t forget anything. Birth certificate, social security card, vaccination card, info from the last school… looked good. “Besides, don’t you wanna look around a bit?”

“No,” Dave said flatly.

“Tough shit,” Bro shrugged. “C’mon.”

“ _ No _ ,” Dave said more insistently, shrinking down in the seat in the same boneless way a toddler refusing to be picked up did that made it almost impossible to carry them against their will.

They stared at each other for a tense moment, annoyed adult facing the brick wall of a stubbornly lifted chin and pout that only a child could wield, before Bro sighed and got out of the car alone. Having won, Dave relaxed and sighed as well. He had peace for all of ten seconds before his door popped open and Bro had grabbed him by the ankle, hefting him up and over his shoulder while he squawked his protests.

“Could’a walked, but nooo, gotta do it the hard way,” Bro lamented, lifting the lowering Dave over his shoulder a few times as if he were exercising as he walked towards the building’s front doors. “At least you’re helpin’ me keep my sick gains, so there’s that.”

“ _ Pummedown _ !” Dave said, flailing, hammering Bro’s lower back with his fists.

“Nah.”

Bro wasn’t sure what they made of him at the front desk, but he was aware of how he looked. Tall, lanky motherfucker with pointy shades and accessories, piercings, hanging a protesting child over his back like he was a toy with one arm. Not exactly blending in. Whoops. Oh well. With a grunt, he leaned to the side and carefully deposited Dave to the ground in a heap before rustling his papers and clearing his throat to get the attention of the woman behind the counter back into the current moment.

“Yeah, the name’s Strider? I called last week?”

Another blank stare before the woman flushed and sat back in her seat. “Oh. Oh! Yes, Mr. Strider. I’ve got the forms right here,” she said hurriedly, rummaging in a drawer as Dave stood up and dusted himself off with a huff. “We just need your signature on a few things and to run some copies of your paperwork. ...And this must be Dave, yes?” she said with a genuine smile.

“Yeah,” Dave said, leaning on the countertop and resting his chin on the cool, hard surface. “The one’n only.”

Charmed, the woman chuckled and accepted the papers Bro offered in exchange for her own registration paperwork. “Would you like to have a look around while you’re here? Maybe see your new classroom?”

“No thanks, I’m good,” Dave said, taking an immediate sidestep so he was beneath where Bro now leaned over, eyes trained on the moving pen from behind his shades.

“Shy one, hmm?”

“Nah, you couldn’t pay him to shut up normally. He’ll warm up,” Bro snorted, reaching a hand down to mess up Dave’s hair before going back to writing. “...Right, this all?”

“Yes, that should do it. He just needs to be sure to bring in money for his lunch card to get it started, and everything else is in order. He can start as early as this week if you’d like.”

“No thank you,” Dave said again as Bro traded paperwork once more to tuck away the cards and different items he’d brought along with copies of the new things for records. Fuck but having a kid was a ton of paperwork bullshit, he was never gonna get used to it. Smuppets were so much easier to deal with honestly, especially now that he wasn’t producing everything on his own anymore for each order. DJing gigs were his favorite kind of bullshit paperwork. At least that kind typically came with a few free beers afterwards.

“We were thinkin’ he’d start bright’n early Monday,” he said. “We’re still busy unpackin’ the house, seemed right to give the kid a little vacation while shi-. …..stuff’s so busy,” he corrected on the fly, clearing his throat again. For the first time, he really looked around. ...Fuck, everything looked so  _ little  _ in this building, the door handles were even lower than he was used to seeing in some cases.

“Well, we look forward to seeing him and welcoming him here,” chuckled the desk woman. “Your teacher will be Mrs. Taylor. Are you certain you don’t want to take a peek bef-”

“No thank you,” Bro said at the same time Dave did, already knowing what he was going to say. Dave tipped his head back against Bro’s stomach and grinned at him in silent thanks. “But we do need to know where the bus stop is.”

“Oh yes, bus stop… Let’s see… You’re over in the Maple Valley area now, and according to your address that would be… Hm. Bus thirteen, at the end of your street.”

“...Which end.”

She smiled. “Just look outside for where children and parents are at around seven thirty in the morning, and follow them. They’ll lead you right where you need to go.”

Bro lifted a brow and slowly tipped his head. Follow the gaggle of kids and parents? Okay. Fine, they could do that. Blend right the fuck in, smooth as silk. No problemo.

“A’ight then, thanks again,” Bro said, taking a step away. Dave had started to follow him when the monotonous drone of an overhead speaker system played a sound, apparently cuing things to switch around in the classrooms. Several doors down the long hall opened, and children of different ages began to file out after their teachers. Too early for lunch. Maybe recess? Or music class or some shit? Bro couldn’t do more than guess. “Hey, what was this time in your old sch- Dave?”

No dice. The second the doors had opened Dave had bolted, flash stepping to the end of the counter and out the front door to the parking lot. Muttering under his breath, Bro gripped the papers tight and took off after him, catching Dave by the back of his shirt. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down kid, where’s the fire? S’wrong?”

“Can we go to the store now?” Dave asked. “Please? I’m hungry.”

Bro opened his mouth, about to call bullshit, but decided better of it. Patience. Kids were frustrating little confusing goblins sometimes, that’s just the way they were built. A lot of shit was happening all at once, and aside from some choice words he’d let slip in the car before, Dave had been fairly stoic about most of what was going on. What was going on in that little head of his that made everything seem so scary? This was the same kid who’d been getting in trouble for fights, yet here he was being spooked by other kids in a hallway. 

Or was this normal and Bro didn’t know? Was Dave skittish? Was he really starting those fights, or was he just finishing them to protect himself? Bro felt his stomach tense up as he realized that Dave had never said one way or another in his own defense. He’d taken fighting at the teacher’s words, but teachers weren’t always right. They didn’t always know the whole story. What had the teachers at his old school seen aside from another kid who needed more help than they could give? 

“...Yeah. C’mon, we gotta get some hella food. Buckle up,” Bro said, flicking the key fob out and unlocking the door as he went to his own side. “You dj, I gotta figure out where the grocery store is in this place.”

Didn’t have to tell him twice. Once he’d buckled himself in, knowing there was no risk of being taken back into the school for now, Dave turned back into the normal kid Bro knew. He took Bro’s phone once it was unlocked and fussed around with the different music options, not sticking to one song too long, trying to find something that was just right. When he hit paydirt, something with a heavy bass drop that Bro liked to use as a side track when he was working, he even started to beatbox and add his own voice to the tune, working his way up to freestyling. Well. As much freestyling as an eight year old could do on the fly, that is.

It was enough to get Bro’s head bobbing as he drove around, keeping an eye out for different signs as he familiarized himself with the layout of the town. He quickly identified the bougie grocery stores and rolled right on by, before finding something that seemed simple enough. It wasn’t the place they were used to shopping at, but y’know what? Change was good. He was feeding Dave that line enough, he could suck it up and figure out what store brand shit from here was tasty by experience too.

Dave seemed fascinated by the different atmosphere and how neat everything was kept when they walked inside, lurking by the cart before veering towards the different fruits and vegetables. Bro didn’t even need to check his list to know what Dave was after.

“Pick the color you want and fill a bag up,” he said, taking a look at some of the more diverse options they had. ...What the fuck was a dragonfruit, how did you eat it, what did it taste like, and why in God’s name was it six dollars.

He grabbed two.

Bananas were a safe bet, considering they both ate them when they were around. Hell, if he cleaned the blender out maybe he could even have them as shakes with some protein powder, make use of that backyard space and get some open air workouts in. After grabbing the fruit and watching Dave deposit a bulging plastic bag of apples before darting off to fuck knew where, Bro straightened up and looked around. Right. Bananas, apples, dubious pink fruit, what was ne-

He was handsome enough that Bro could see it from a distance, and fuck did it go straight to his dick. Dude had to be in his thirties or early forties, though if he ditched the weird hat Bro could probably read him better. Dark olive skin, starched, crisp white shirt with a tie, black slacks, sensible shoes. He was reading off of a paper list instead of a phone, and Bro couldn’t help but gawk a bit. The guy had a strong jaw, a good nose, and lips that he wanted to get to know better just from seeing them curve to silently fit the words he was reading.

...What the fuck was he doing. He was in the fucking grocery store thirsting over some guy who was just buying broccoli and minding his own damn business. Wasn’t even his type. Or was he? Yeah, the clothes were kinda weird for Bro, but another good glance from head to toe made him reconsider it. He could work with that. Dude had a daddy vibe a mile wide, though Bro considered the implications that, yeah, he might have a kid too. Honest to God Dilf material.

Being stared at weirdly in the middle of the produce section by a dude in pointy shades and fingerless gloves with his collar popped like he was hot shit who was thirsting hard enough it was probably embarrassing people in a five aisle radius because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually hooked up with anyone even for a one night stand since Dave came along.

Then he looked up, and fucking shit those were some blue eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, two wild animals in the same foggy field at dawn. Then he smiled, bowed his head in a polite greeting and… just like that, was coasting off towards the dairy section. Bro continued to gawk a bit as the man in the hat left, because the slacks didn’t leave much to the cultured imagination and the spank bank was withered and depleted after years of negligence.

Dairy.

Y’know, he could probably use some milk and eggs. Maybe some cheese. Okay, a little light, casual creeping on this guy while actually getting his groceries wouldn’t harm anyone. It was normal for people to make the same sweeps around places, especially the high traffic zones. Right?

While this was fundamentally true, it didn’t make it any less awkward that he was trailing this guy half an aisle behind for the entirety of the store as he loaded up on different things. Dave periodically came and found him, bugged him for a quarter or asked questions, then disappeared again to who knew where. Bro was kind of surprised by his purchases as he went through the checkout line and signed up for a discount card. Aside from some necessities the house needed, there was a lot more diversity coming into the Strider household than frozen food and takeout this time around. Would it last? Who the fuck knew, not him, but it was kinda neat seeing how surprised Dave looked at the mountain of things as they entered their paper bags.

“We gonna eat all this?”

“Nah, thought I’d just leave it in the garage and take sultry pictures with it. Yes we’re gonna eat it all Dave, why else would we be buyin’ it.”

Without a proper retort, Dave pursed his lips and went back to peering into the bags as they were set into the cart one by one. They headed out of the store and back to their car, and after loading everything up, it was time to head home.

“Y’know,” Dave admitted as they unloaded everything from the garage to the kitchen counters and floor, “I kinda like this whole not havin’ to climb a ton of stairs to bring stuff up to the kitchen thing.”

“Same.”

Strong as Bro was, it was still tedious as fuck to bring substantial groceries to the top floor. It was much easier to just buy food as they were hungry, even if it meant shelling out a bit more money over time as it added up fast. He’d just forked over a good chunk of change today, but they’d be feasting like kings for a  _ while _ .

Dave got to choose where to store most of the things in the fridge, wanting easy access to his chilled fruit and his lunchables and snacks, while Bro played Tetris to get everything else to fit in the cupboards and freezer and-

“Hey, Bro, what’s this little room for?”

“Little room?” he asked, turning around. It was attached to the kitchen, about the size of a closet, with shelves lining from top to bottom. “Jesus, we’ve got a pantry.”

“A pantry?”

“Rich people food cabinet,” Bro translated.

“Oh shit.”

“I know, right.” Wait. “What’d you say?”

“ _ I’mgonnagooutsidebye _ ,” Dave rushed, snatching a lunchables out from the fridge before racing for the door to the backyard. Bro snorted and put the rest of the things away before pulling his phone out to check his list from earlier. Yeah, wow, he’d done some major overkill. Wouldn’t hurt, right? They had the room for it AND all the smuppets and swords in here, nothing was gonna go to waste.

He cleared the list off before his attention turned to Pinterest again, curiously sifting through it with his thumb. Okay. He’d seen a lot of info on things to put in a house, but it still didn’t make much sense. Where did people find all this shit, it was like looking at nothing but pictures and seeing ideas but getting no solid information. He added more things that looked swag to his board, enjoying the idle downtime, before he realized that maybe it’d make more sense to try having a list per space.

What kind of shit would look good in his room specifically? What about Dave with all his stuff? Kid had more toys and clothes and random junk than he knew what to do with already, and he knew it’d just increase as he got older. People on this site seemed obsessed with storage, maybe that was a clue.

By the time he came out of another deep dive, he had a lot of ideas for Dave’s room as well as his own, and realized he hadn’t heard a peep out of the kid in question in a while. He was just outside, in their own fenced yard no less, he’d be fine.

Right?

Years of living in the city still had Bro on edge, though, and he went to the kitchen window to peer outside, trying to find the flash of blonde and red shirt that was his. It took a hot second, but Bro finally spotted him, shoes off and knelt down in the grass looking at something closely in the dirt. He seemed occupied and safe enough, so Bro didn’t question it. He’d come in when he got bored, probably.

Okay. Sign Dave up for school? Check. Groceries? Check. ...Ugh, time to unpack some shit, he could deal with business inquiries later. Everyone knew he was moving and would be unavailable for a few days while things got set up. Considering how much junk they had brought with them, Bro assumed it’d take all day, yet in reality it just took a few hours to get things sorted into the right rooms and opened. Dave snuck back in, snatched an apple juice and took off outside again without helping like a punk, but Bro couldn’t blame him. The sea of boxes and cartons looked kinda intimidating to him, he could only imagine how it’d look to someone half his size.

By near dinner he’d managed to get most of the shit unpacked and set up and… their entire life didn’t amount to much inside a full sized house. Bro flopped back into a pile of smuppet prototypes and sighed amid the plush squeaks, letting his back stretch out and his mind wander. Going off what he saw online and what he’d seen in movies and stuff, this was definitely not quite a house yet. They had the basics, but there were so many gaps in his knowledge and what they had that hadn’t been an issue before now. There were empty spaces and wide open walls that made everything that comprised their lives look small and unassuming.

A knock at his door caught his attention. Bro made a face from where he lay, not wanting to get up from the safe comfort of his plush pile. Sometimes a motherfucker just needed to relax in some plush rumps without being bothered. Besides, who the fuck could it be, they hadn’t ordered anything yet aside from the pizza before. With a grunt, however, he finally got up and went to open the door, jerking it open and looking out. ...before having to look down a bit.

Not one woman, but three were on his doorstep. Middle aged, dressed nicely, hair and nails tended, and each bearing a tupperware of something. He lifted a brow before leaning against the doorway with his shoulder.

“Can I help you?”

“We couldn’t help but notice the moving van yesterday,” said one woman with delicately braided cornrows. “And your son as well. We all live on this street and wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

“I imagine you’re floundering with getting everything set up, so we brought some things for you two to enjoy,” said the second, lifting the lid of what she held to show some kind of tater tot casserole. “This is some of my famous hotdish. Old family recipe!”

“I brought some eight layer casserole,” said the woman with the cornrows, lifting her tupperware with a wide grin. “Make sure you heat it thoroughly, it doesn’t taste the same if there’s cold spots.”

“And I brought cookies,” said the third a little too loudly from the back. “Oh, my boys love these cookies, I hope yours likes them too. What grade is he in?”

“Third,” Bro said, straightening up a bit. “Actually. Where’s the bus stop? Most info I got was ‘end of the street’ which is clear as mud.”

“Oh, you can’t miss it,” said the loud woman, turning to gesture towards the left of the road. “Right down there, every school day it’s flooded with our little herd. We usually have a parent of two on watch duty with them all till the bus comes. Will he be starting soon?”

“Yeah, next week. Dave’s havin’ a lil vacay till then,” Bro said, accepting the dishes as they were offered to him and holding them in a stack. “Where uh. Where do I bring the dishes when they’re done?”

“The blue house down that way, honey, we’ll sort them out from there,” said the lady with cornrows. “If you need anything just holler, okay? We’ve lived here for a long time, it’s a peaceful place. We all look out for each other.”

“Oh! And don’t forget to check in with the HOA when you get the chance, let me write the website down,” said the loud woman, rummaging in a small purse against her side for a pen and a sticky note.

“HOA?” Bro asked, confused.

“Homeowner’s association,” she clarified. “They keep everything orderly around here, it’s quite nice to not have to worry about things. The neighborhood always looks spotless because of them. There’s a fee, but it all goes towards maintenance projects for the neighborhood itself.”

Bro accepted the paper and looked at it dubiously from behind his shades as the women chattered about the neighborhood’s comings and goings. The way they talked was familiar to him somehow, though the idea of Mom Gossip was beyond him normally. They knew how things worked. They had tips. They had…

“Actually. I’ve got a question,” he said, interrupting a talk about an upcoming tee ball game. “Do ya’ll like. Know anything about interiors? Like. Decoratin’? We moved from a one bedroom apartment to here and I-”

The floodgates had been opened. No sooner had he uttered the words, Bro was being talked at a mile a minute, only able to keep up by virtue of having lived around Dave. There was talk about Pinterest, about Ikea showrooms, about YouTubers, Instagram accounts, do it yourself books and shows, a quick veer into the joys of crafting, and then back into the confusing world of decor. The casseroles in his hands felt like weights by the time they all finally finished chattering and left him to his own devices once more, still confused but at least with more ideas than before.

Storage was God. Clutter was Bad. Something about complementary colors. Rugs were important. Something about candles and welcoming aromas. Ikea had stuck out after being reminded it existed. The place had model rooms, right? Didn’t cost an arm and a leg either. Maybe he could get some hints on how shit was supposed to look from there.

“They gone?” came a voice from behind him. Bro closed the door and walked past Dave to the kitchen.

“Yeah, they are. Were you just chillin’ and listenin’?”

“Yeah, they talk pretty fast. What you got?”

“Food.”

“More?” Dave asked, lifting his brows. “Ew, what is it.”

“Don’t ew it, you haven’t even tasted it. It’s free is what it is, so we’re gonna eat the shit up. And cookies too.”

“...Okay, maybe it ain’t so bad.”

“Now you’re talkin’,” Bro said as he set the tupperwares down and took out some plates. “By the way, what was so fascinatin’ outside, squirt?”

“Ants,” Dave said. “Lotsa ants. And there’s stuff in the ground pokin’ up here and there.”

“Stuff?” Bro asked, dishing up a serving of each casserole for Dave onto one plate and popping it in the microwave.

“Bones!”

Bro almost dropped his spoon. Great, did they move into a fucking murder house? Was that why it seemed too good to be true, why everything was lining up suddenly? Did they need to call the popo so soon after moving?

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, wanna see?” Dave asked excitedly. “I dug some up! You can see where a dog was chewin’ on’em.”

Dog bones he could deal with. Okay, crisis averted.

“Maybe later. How about you wash your nasty ass hands before having some of this, yeah?”

“Why, it’s just dirt and I’ll be usin’ a fork.”

“And old ass dog spit and whatever was on the bones and yeah, dirt, just do it.”

“Fiiiiine,” said Dave in his best whine as he went to the sink to scrub up.

The casseroles were surprisingly good, they decided. They ate in the kitchen, Dave perched on the countertop eating over his knees and Bro leaning against the fridge. Good enough that Dave asked if they could have it again, despite Bro not knowing how to make it. ...Maybe he could get a recipe? Was he at the stage of Asking Neighbors For Their Family Recipes already? It felt like some weird script, yet if it meant he could have more hotdish whenever he wanted, he was willing to read from it.

Maybe the suburbs were going to be good for both of them.

  
  


\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  
  


“Okay. What’s the rule in here,” Bro said a few days later outside the intimidating Ikea building.

“Follow the arrows, or the staff will eat you.”

“Right. They collect runts like you and train’em up to be staff or put’em in the meatballs.”

“Ewwww.”

“Ew is right, stick near the damn cart,” Bro said as they entered.

It was like being in another world. Everything smelled like raw wood and fresh, crisp plastic and cleanser. The lights were bright in the cool light way, and the sweet and savory smells from a cafe setup intermingled with the sounds of walking and clanking goods in carts, cutlery against dishes, idle conversations. A theme park for furniture. He half expected some Swedish rat to turn up in cartoons all over the place.

“There’s a play area,” Dave pointed out. He was right, there was a gated area with a small ball pit and different toys to keep small children occupied. Bro snorted. 

“You wanna go back to kindergarten lil man? That’s where the tiny tots go when they can’t keep up with the cart to keep staff from hidin’ them in the hurgenfloogs.”

“....In the what?”

“Did I stutter.”

He understood why the carts were so big within about ten minutes. There were so many things that seemed useful or interesting that he found himself adding to the cart, odds and ends that were damaged or outright missing from their home that he’d meant to replace but never got around to buying. Little minimalist trinkets sprinkled here and there in organized squares and rows and sections like easter eggs hidden in the grass, brand new and cheap. Dave kept reaching out and picking things up, turning to ask Bro what they were, and putting them back. A few times Bro lied, uncertain what they were for, but not wanting to look like he didn’t know. A garlic press probably had all kinds of different uses, in his defense.

The showrooms were the best part, though. Bro found himself wanting to take notes, wanting to take measurements, kicking himself for not measuring shit at the house before coming. Instead, he took pictures of the tags for different furniture items that looked good to him for finding later.

“How’re we gonna fit that in the car?” Dave asked as Bro knelt down to check the tags on different beds.

“We’re gonna have it delivered, kid, I ain’t able to squeeze it into the car even in pieces. Now, you want this here SLÄKT or the HEMNES.”

“...Whichever one doesn’t look like a baby bed. Why’m I gettin’ a new bed, though, mine’s fine!”

“This’ll give you somewhere else to hide your shit in your room,” Bro said, taking a picture of the hemnes and then snapping a picture of the tag for a queen for himself. “You ain’t got a bed frame or anything, and that mattress and box springs is older than you are. It was mine before you came along and peed all over it.”

Dave flushed red and stomped his foot.

“I did  _ not _ !”

“Yeah you did. Peed all over it, barfed all over it. Babies are gross, dude, and you weren’t a special case. Remember when you had the flu a few years back? Fun times,” Bro said with a roll of his eyes. “Me? I’m just stoked I’ll have a bed again at all.”

“You never pulled the futon out at the apartment,” Dave pointed out.

“Too much work.”

It also wasn’t quiet, and with how late he’d come back home for so many years, the last thing he wanted to do was wake Dave up out of a dead sleep and be charged with a shitty sword because he thought someone was trying to break in. Kid had the spirit, but not the sense when he was groggy.

After some thought, Bro added multiple sets of shelves, desks, and a chest of drawers each to the shopping list, as well as a basic table and some chairs for the dining room. Fuck this was expensive. He could afford shelling out for it since it was a one time fee, but he’d need to bust some ass and maybe do some special deals to generate extra sales on the site once he got back to work to compensate. By the time he’d done that, he called it quits for the day. The bathroom, the living room, the dining room, and everything else could fucking wait a little while to be decorated and prettied up and made to look like an actual house. As long as they had their own spaces set up and ready to be enjoyed, that’d be enough for now.

It was on their slow, confusing walk to find the checkout section and exit from this magical land of bullshit that they ran into the plush toy displays. Animals of different sizes and shapes were lined up on shelves and stuffed into display bins, all surprisingly cheap for the quality. Bro knew he was in trouble the second he saw Dave’s head jerk to the side. Like clockwork he darted away from the cart and came back carrying a plush shark almost as big as himself, wagging it over his head like a pro-wrestler preparing for the smackdown.

“CAN WE GET IT?” he cried with all the energy an eight year old could muster.

“...One condition,” Bro said. Yeah, Dave could get the plush, there was no way he’d say no to that. It was a pretty sick shark. He glanced around for a moment before spotting a massive bear with a potbelly, taking a moment to stare at the tag before lifting it by the arm. “Mr. Djungelskog comes with us too.”

Dave pursed his lips up in thought, seriously considering the implications of yet another giant plush coming to live in their house.

“...Can they fight?” he asked, not moving from his pose, waiting for confirmation before dropping his prize into the basket.

“You bet your ass they can. Sharks versus bears, battle of the century.”

The shark got to ride shotgun with Dave peeking his head over the top of its maw, making it sing along to the music that accompanied them back to their suburban hide. Damn that shark could rap.

  
  
  


\- - - - - - - - - - - -

  
  


Breakfast Monday was pancakes. Bro got up early to make them, leopard print robe on over his boxers and a set of fluffy muppet slippers on his feet. He made coffee for himself, poured apple juice, got the envelope with the lunch money for Dave’s card ready, and got the good maple syrup set up on the new table. He’d grown a bit attached since it had been delivered and they’d put it together along with all the other furniture (Saturday had been a living Hell). It was kinda sweet to be able to just wipe up the crumbs instead of needing to sweep every fucking time they ate. When the plates were filled and the pancakes buttered, Bro headed upstairs to get Dave up.

“Hey. Time to wake up, dude, got shit to do. Pancakes to eat. They’re still hot.”

“I’m sick, I can’t go to school today,” were Dave’s first words, miserably from under the blankets.

“Bullshit, you were just fine yesterday.”

“No, really, I’m really really sick,” Dave said.

“Uh huh. Where.”

“Uh. My head hurts, and my stomach hurts real bad.”

“Gotta take a dump or somethin’?”

“ _ Bro _ !”

“What, it’s a legit question. You throw up last night or anything?”

“Nnnnnnno but I might any time,” he promised, red eyes peeking out from under the blankets towards Bro, brows furrowed. “I feel really sick.”

Bro made a face, but came over to put a wrist to Dave’s forehead, then the side of his neck. After a moment he sighed.

“I guess it can’t be helped.”

Dave immediately relaxed and closed his eyes, comforted.

“You’ve got terminal nerd disease.”

“Do not.”

“No, you do, I’ve kept you in the dark long enough.”

“Bro.”

“The doctor told me, man, you’re gonna turn into a nerd on full moons like some kinda physics werewolf, this is the early stages.”

“ _ Bro! _ ”

Bro sighed and flopped onto Dave’s bed across his legs, his own knees on the ground, pinning him in place. “Why, God! Why him! He was so young, so full of swag, and now look at him. Fakin’ sick to get out of school like a weenie.”

“You weigh a ton, get offa me!”

“Only if you come downstairs and eat.”

“I’m sick!”

“You ain’t contagious. C’mon. Up,” Bro said, finally rising and pulling the blankets up like a tent. Exposed in his pajamas, Dave groaned and finally crawled out of bed and headed to the stairs to meander his complaining way to the kitchen.

He wasn’t his usual chatty self, though he did clear his plate and ask for an extra pancake. Bro didn’t push it. He just made sure he got fed, got dressed, brushed his teeth, didn’t look like a mess. For being so young, Dave took great pains about his appearance, preferring just the right swoop of his bangs, just the right shirt each day. They were running late by the time Bro checked the time on his phone, cussing under his breath as he ran over to the stairs to holler up them.

“Get your bag, you’re gonna miss the bus, hustle kid!”

“I’m comin’ I’m comin’, keep your wig on!”

“We’re runnin’ late,” Bro said as Dave rushed down two stairs at a time to put his shoes on by the door. Bro had his backpack with its envelope stuffed safely inside the front pocket all ready to go. When Dave opened the door and finally stepped outside, Bro followed him, causing Dave to freeze and immediately turn around.

“Oh, no. No. No no no. You are  _ not  _ comin’ outside like that!”

“Yes I am,” Bro said. “I wanna make sure you go and aren’t hidin’ in the bushes or some shit like a ninja.”

“ _ Bro you’re embarrassing me _ ,” Dave said urgently, only to freeze like someone hit him with liquid nitrogen when he heard a woman’s voice behind him.

“Oh, good morning! Right on time, the bus’ll be here any minute!”

Stiff legged with embarrassment, Dave slowly stalked to the bus stop with his brightly colored father figure in tow, eyes trained down and mouth a thin line. Some of the kids said hello, and he nodded at them, but wasn’t seeming too intent on talking.

At first, at least.

One boy seemed more than eager to ignore social cues in the search for friendship. Buck toothed, thick glasses, GhostBusters backpack and messy black hair, the kid stuck to Dave’s side like glue from minute one with a steady stream of chatter. Questions about his name, where he was from, what his favorite color was, if he liked sweets or not, if he believed in ghosts, if he LIKED ghosts, if he liked Minecraft, if he liked anything under the sun it seemed like. While Dave wasn’t the quickest to reply this morning, responses a little short, curt even at times, Bro knew from the slight curve of his lips that he was grateful someone was trying this hard.

“S’that your dad?” the other boy asked. “His sunglasses are weird like yours!”

“They’re not weird, they’re awesome,” Dave said immediately.

“No, they’re weird, they’re all pointy like in anime,” the kid insisted, then grinned broadly. “But it’s cool you match!”

Dave tipped his head back to look up pleadingly at Bro one last time before the bus rounded the corner and came to a stop. One last begging gesture in the hopes that mercy would befall him… and then he was taking those big steps onto the bus, watching Bro out the window as he got smaller behind them.

Alone once again, guilt stirring in his stomach, Bro crossed his arms. It’d be okay. It had to be okay. Things were going so well, this had to be the change he needed. It’d be fine, kids went to school all the time, this was good for him, he’d get new experiences, more help.

Why did he feel like a criminal?

“You have got to tell me where you got that robe, it’s fantastic,” said one of the mothers who was left behind. Instead of trailing away back towards their homes, or to their cars to go to work, a few people lingered to chat with him on the sidewalk.

“Got it at the thrift store in the city,” he shrugged. “Would’ve gotten the pink print one but it wasn’t big enough for my arms or shoulders.”

"Do you work from home?” a second asked.

“Yeah. No latchkey kid here, he’s gotta deal with me soon as he gets home later.”

“You’ve got to come over for lunch then so we can talk more! We all like to meet up at different houses and catch up on weekdays. It’s been a while since we had a new face around here, and you’re. ...Well, you’re not quite what we expected in a new neighbor,” she admitted.

Was he being hit on, or was this some kind of weird Mom ritual. A bit uncomfortable, he drummed his fingers on his biceps and shrugged absently. Noncommittal. Keep it open.

“Sure I guess.”

“Bring your wallet, she’s going to try roping you in for girl scout cookies,” laughed another mom.

“Only a few boxes!” she laughed right back, flapping her hand dismissively. “Emma’s so close to her goal, it’d be a shame to get so close and then not reach it at the very end.”

He smirked slightly.

“That’s fine, I’d be down for cookies. We used to get a few boxes when they were sellin’ at storefronts. Lived on the top floor where we came from, so they weren’t exactly doin’ door to door sales there.”

“I can’t even imagine living in the city, it’s too busy,” said the other mom, shaking her head.

“Had its own charms,” Bro shrugged. “I think I should prolly go put pants on now that the kid’s gone, pretty sure your husbands’d give me some weird looks if I turned up like this.”

“My wife would love it, she adores The Muppets,” she promised with another bright laugh.

Did she now. Well, boy, did Bro have a business proposition for her.

“I’ll catch you ladies later then,” he said, dismissing himself from their cluster to stride his long legged way back home. There were some pancakes to finish and some dishes to chuck in the dishwasher for later, and business to start doing again.

  
  
  


\- - - - - - - - - - -

  
  
  


Bro realized two things very quickly upon being collected for lunch hour by the local housewives. The first was that, surprisingly, any flirting that was happening didn’t seem to be done with any hope of follow through. It was comforting and easier to dismiss, same as he would at the club, which got him back onto even footing. The second was that most of these ladies were lushes. He’d heard the phrase Wine Moms before, but not until he’d entered a home and seen it in action had he really given it any thought.

Lunch was finger sandwiches, salad, sweets and dessert wine, which Bro passed on. He was never much of a wine drinker, and not even the sweet, heavy as a brick wines that were on offer were going to change that. The ladies talked around him, filling him in on the basics of the neighborhood and things that didn’t involve him in the slightest, welcoming him to their circle of stay at home parents. Then, just as fast, the topic switched to gossip.

He was learning about people he had never seen or heard of before, their love lives, their habits. Karen’s sloppy garden, Kent and his car that he claimed would someday run, and Abigail's failed petition to be allowed chickens in her backyard. Bro was filled in on supposed affairs, divorces, expecting families, awaiting adoptions, school awards, graduations. He didn’t know what to file away and what not to file away, so he just absorbed everything like a sponge as he ate his crustless sandwich daintily as he could, nodding every so often to show he was listening or offering a polite ‘Oh’ or ‘Wow’ as the tone demanded.

This place was its own ecosystem in a weird way. It would be funny if there wasn’t the vague air of what felt like an unspoken threat: there were eyes and ears everywhere. Everyone knew everyone’s business. There was privacy, but only to a point. Things became neighborhood business. The description of Bro’s morning appearance had already made the rounds, though in a light hearted, amused way. Dave had also made the rounds, with the moms deciding he was a shy kid. Bro didn’t bother correcting them.

Of course moving wouldn’t magically make the world better. It had opened up a new world of potential threats. But, thankfully, these threats were for Bro to handle instead of Dave.

He was pretty sure he was tough enough.

“Goodness me, I just realized we’ve not asked your name properly,” said the hostess, scandalized. “Here we’ve introduced everyone and been talking kids and gossip and we don’t know who you are yet!”

“Ah. It’s Dirk,” he said, nonplussed. “I don’t answer to my name often.”

“Oh? What do you answer to?”

“Bro.”

“...I’d been meaning to ask about that,” said another mom, swirling her third glass of wine absently. “I heard your boy calls you ‘Bro’ too…? Why’s that? Why not Dad?”

“Bros are objectively cooler than Dads.”

“Isn’t that similar to having your child call you by your name, though?”

“I guess.”

“Isn’t that a bit abnormal, dear?”

Bro could feel a subtle switch in the air. Predatory. Pursuing. Like a game of chess, though, he just kept them moving till he could take their king. Abnormal. Hah, they didn’t know shit about how ‘abnormal’ they were compared to their sleepy suburban standards.

“Maybe to you, but I think it’s fine and that’s what matters. Wouldn’t you say so?” he asked with a pointed lift of his brow. “Dave’s polite, he doesn’t just say any adult’s name. Calls folks ma’am or sir same as everyone else, minds his Ps and Qs. Even takes his shoes off at the door.”

The mother flushed and lowered her wine when the others looked at her as a group, grasping at straws.

“Oh, I. No, no, I never meant to say he was without manners, just-”

“You were just hintin’ at it, ‘cause we’re different from your family. It’s okay, I understand. Different is scary,” Bro said, picking up a girl scout cookie and crunching it. He wasn’t immune to the power of thin mints. Two could play at this fucking game.

She blanched briefly, then flushed and murmured demurely into her wine glass. Awkwardness blossomed, and silence swelled till the hostess swooped in to salvage the conversation.

“I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been enjoying the thin mints. Can I put you down for a few boxes?” she chuckled. A few of the others giggled and relaxed, eager to drop the tense air.

“Certainly,” Bro said pleasantly, leaning to one side to fish his wallet out of his pocket with a smile. “I’ll take three.”

Checkmate.

  
  


\- - - - - - - - - - -

  
  
  


Life settled into a more normal pace for Bro and Dave. As Bro had hoped, Dave seemed to flourish at the new school. There had been a few phone calls through the first week as he adjusted, and some more forms to sign, but soon enough Dave was not only settling into the class but settling in with a counselor who was helping to fill in the gaps that he needed help with. Ms. Paint seemed like a sweet lady, and Dave had nothing but good things to say about her. He’d even made a friend out of the buck toothed boy at the bus stop, whose name was John. Every morning now he was quick to race out the door in the morning and catch up with John till the bus came, and slow to come back from the bus stop in the afternoon. Bro was thrilled. Class projects came back with him now, and within the first week drawings were decorating the fridge.

The kid was finding his stride, and Bro was proud as fuck of him for establishing himself without his help.

It was Bro’s turn, next. While he was establishing himself with the wine moms, doubly so since they realized he could sew and crochet and knit without patterns as well or better than any of them, there was a new threat to deal with: the HOA.

The first letter had turned up, crisp and prompt and formally typed like a business document, the day after they hung Dave’s new curtains in his room. They were bright and flashy and the kid loved them, but apparently they were against some code and had to come down if they didn’t want to pay a fine. Down they had come, with Bro helping him hang them in front of his closet instead so they didn’t go to waste.

The second letter had come when Bro went to take the trash out one night, informing him that trash was to be on the curb no earlier than 8am. The third when he was late, informing him that recycling and trash was to be put out no later than 9am. The fourth was when his lawn needed trimming, making him borrow someone’s lawn mower because he not only didn’t have one but didn’t even know what kind would be best to get once he learned a bit more about how they worked, all because the grass was half an inch too tall.

When the fifth letter came, a complaint about Dave’s chalk drawings being ‘vulgar’ and needing to be scrubbed off the front walk, Bro was pretty sure he was going to snap. Whoever the fuck this James Egbert was, he was going to deck him and then shove every one of his ‘helpful’ letters up his ass.

Bro tried to keep up with the demands, sliding into the routine with the rest of the neighbors, adjusting his schedule and habits as much as he could to keep people off his back, but it was difficult. Every little thing was suddenly a new game of if it would be allowed or not, the chess game alive and well between Bro and the faceless entity of the head of the HOA. The best Bro could do was take educated guesses, and then get annoyed when he was incorrect while keeping up with the local gossip to get hints as if the hive of moms were whispering cheat codes into his ear.

He’d spent the day outdoors and was still outside finishing the lawn once more when the school bus pulled up to drop off the flood of kids. Expecting Dave to take his time like usual, Bro didn’t keep an eye out for him, finishing his bagging of the trimmed grass so he could set it by the curb on the right day at the right time. What he hadn’t expected was Dave, with John in tow, to try sneaking past him to the front door.

“Hey squirt, where do you think you’re go-. ...Dave?”

His clothes were a mess. Dirt on his knees, on his face and in his hair, shades broken and in his hand. John looked just as messy, though he was also sporting crooked glasses and skinned knees below the hem of his khaki shorts. 

“Kid what the fu-”

“I didn’t start it!” Dave was quick to say, spreading his arms.

“It wasn’t his fault Mr. Strider, he was helping me,” John interjected quickly. “It was recess an-”

“They were big kids and they were being mean an-”

Bro pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, just. Okay, c’mon inside. Let’s get you two cleaned up and you can tell me what the hell happened when you’ve caught your breath.”

The story tumbled out while Dave and John washed up at the kitchen sink, Bro helping to disinfect John’s knees and slap a bandaid on one that looked a bit too raw. Apparently some older kids were targeting John at recess, and Dave stepped in as backup. Between the two of them they’d stood their ground against the older kids till a teacher intervened and separated them.

“You get in trouble for it?” Bro asked, dishing up milk and opening one of the boxes of thin mints that were still laying around.

“A bit,” Dave snuffed. “Got a warning and they said they called you. Did they not?”

Frowning, Bro rummaged in his pocket and pulled out his phone, sighing at the missed call from Crestview Elementary.

“Yeah, looks like I missed it. My bad. I’ll give’m a call tomorrow and have a chat. Don’t want this hangin’ over you like it’s a habit or somethin’,” he said.

Dave slid down from his seat and went to grab a bottle of apple juice to have with his snack, while John drained his own glass slowly. He couldn’t help but look around, never having been in their house before, and seeing sights that were so different from his own home. Suddenly though, he lifted his brows as if remembering something.

“Oh! I should get home soon, my Dad’ll prolly wanna talk about his phone call. Thank you for the bandaid Mr. Strider.”

“Just call me Bro, kid, Mister sounds so old. You want me to walk you over?” he asked. “Seems like it’d prolly be a good idea, since you were over here first.” Come to think of it, he’d never met John’s parents. He didn’t even know which house was his. Since the boys seemed close, maybe this’d grease the way for more play time to happen instead of them both just playing in his front and back yard on weekends. Maybe even a sleepover could happen.

John considered it for a moment before nodding in agreement. He beamed Dave’s direction across the table as he stood up and went to grab his backpack. “Thanks again Dave. I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

Dave grinned and flushed a bit, nodding as he drank his juice, kicking his feet. “No prob.”

The house John led Bro to was prim, proper, and… well. Perfect looking. The lawn was immaculate, a spotless car was parked in the driveway, and there wasn’t a spot of mess on the white house itself. John trotted ahead excitedly when he saw the mailbox flag was up, rummaging inside to get out the letters and a magazine that Bro recognized. Gamebro, nice, the kid had good taste. He ran for the door next, leaving the door hanging open as he ran inside to go deposit the mail on the kitchen counter, calling for his dad.

“John, don’t leave the front door hanging open like that, you’ll let all the bugs insi- ...Can I help you?”

Bro was pretty sure he was going to go feral as soon as he saw who came down the stairs. The hot grocery store man lived in this house, and was apparently John’s father. Without the hat from the store, he could peg him as a little older than himself, the first traces of salt and pepper at the temples of his dark well kept hair. There was an excuse to talk to this man, and potentially talk to him often. His mouth and throat went dry, and it took a good moment for him to remember that the ball was in his court for the conversation since John had ran off and left him holding the metaphorical bag.

“Yeah, uh. I’m Dave’s Bro. Er. Dad,” he corrected, clarifying.

“Oh! Yes, I’ve heard all about him from John. My apologies for not chatting with you sooner, things have been a little hectic with projects at work,” he said with a smile that crinkled the edges of his eyes.

“No prob,” Bro said. “I wanted to have a chat about-”

“The fight? Yes, of course, please. Come inside and have a coffee if you would?” he offered. “Ah, my name is James.”

“Bro. ...Dirk,” he amended. “But I answer to Bro,” he clarified on his way inside, closing the door behind himself and following James to the kitchen.

“This isn’t the first time this has happened,” James admitted as he went to pour coffee for them both. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Both, please,” Bro said as he took a seat at the table. Spotless. Meticulous. Tidy. Everything in here matched, yet still looked cozy. Bro took mental notes.

“Though, this is the first time that John’s had someone willing to stick up for him like this,” he said as he added milk and sugar before setting a teaspoon into the mug, setting it in front of Bro before tending to his own glass. “Speaking of, John, your glasses… You have a spare pair in the bureau, go ahead and switch them out till we get those frames fixed.”

“Alright Dad,” John said, distracted by his newly acquired magazine instead of the conversation between adults as he shuffled out of the room.

“Dave’s had some troubles at school, but he’s a good kid. He doesn’t start shit, but he’s ready to throw down when it’s something he cares about.”

“Language,” James said out of habit.

Something warmed in Bro’s stomach at the light chastising. Christ this guy gave off Dad vibes thick as molasses, and he was here for it. His lips quirked a bit.

“Sorry.” Daddy. “But either way, point still stands. I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about Dave bein’ some fighter or somethin’.”

“Oh, no, perish the thought,” James said. “It’s obvious he was just helping a friend. From all accounts he sounds like an excellent boy. In fact I’d love to see him over here sometime moving forward if he’d like, our doors are open. Cake?”

Dude had cake for days, if the shape in the back of those slacks wasn’t lying. Oh. Actual cake.

“Sure, I’ll have a slice. The missus make it?”

“No, no Mrs. Egbert here, just me. Baking is my hobby.”

“Ah.” Wait. “...Egbert? HOA Egbert?”

“The one and only,” he said with a smile, opening a cake protector and getting out two small plates before slicing a chunk each. It looked to be chocolate, thick, rich, and glazed with glassy looking topping and coconut flakes. It smelled like cocoa even from where Bro sat, blending with James’ cologne when he came near to deposit the cake in front of him.

“...I see,” he said, picking his fork up to take a bite of the cake. Moist, delicious, almost like a fudge brownie in cake form.

“I’m also the same James Egbert from the PTA,” he said.

“I’m the Dirk Strider you’ve been sendin’ letters to every week.”

“...Ah. I see.” He paused for a moment with his own cake, slicing a neat piece off and popping it into his mouth. Awkward, but good cake was good cake. “Well, I’ve not had to send any this week. It appears you’re learning.”

‘To be a good boy for me,’ Bro’s mind supplied, though he held his tongue. Was it just the dilf energy or his own unsated thirst that was making his brain take a hike? Was he that into dads or was it just his dick waking up for the first time in a while and having an aneurysm on its own damn time?

“Yeah. Hah. ...Cake’s good,” Bro offered, trying to lighten the conversation.

“Thank you, I try. John doesn’t appreciate sweets much, but I can’t help myself from making things,” he chuckled. “Does Dave enjoy sweets?”

“Kid’s got a sweet tooth, yeah.”

“Do you bake? Or your wife?”

“No wife,” Bro said quickly. “Not my style. But I can follow directions well enough from a box I guess.”

James quirked a brow and grinned.

“Prefer the single life?”

“That’s one way of sayin’ it I suppose.”

James pursed his lips slightly, pondering as he looked Bro over. Then, reading between the lines, he took another bite of cake. “Fair. I’ve never been able to choose a side of the fence, myself. The grass is green on both sides. I thought I’d chosen when John’s mother was around, but the grass keeps growing.”

Bro inhaled his cake and cleared his throat before taking a quick swig of coffee to wash it down. Jesus. ...Was that an invitation, or…?

“Actually, on the topic of the PTA… There’s a bake sale happening soon,” James said. “We try to get as many people as possible to contribute so we can get the most sales, but not many people signed up this year. Do you suppose I could mark you down for making some goods?”

“Uh. Sure, when they due by.”

“Friday by 6pm,” he said, “though ideally they’d be prepared and delivered before that so we could be all set up in time.”

“...Sure,” Bro said, before he could think better of it. “Yeah. I can do that.”

  
  
  


\- - - - - - - -

  
  


It turned out, to the surprise of nobody, that he could not do that. The cookies Bro experimented with from Pinterest Thursday night failed him somehow, a betrayal he was still coming to terms with, but the lemon bars he tried making from a box mix turned out nasty as well. How the fuck do you screw up a box mix, the directions were right there! Yet his bars were malformed, far too dry and crumbly, and generally unappetizing.

“Amateur hour,” Dave declared, sampling the finished treats. They were edible. Mostly. But they weren’t good enough to sell to anyone.

“Like you could do better,” Bro muttered, annoyed more at himself than anything else. “It’s gettin’ late, I think I should go tell James I can’t do this after all.”

“Can I come too?”

“Why, it’s gettin’ late, not like you can play right now.”

“I wanted to loan John one of my games, I forgot to earlier,” Dave said, running upstairs already before Bro could even go slip his shoes on.

This should be easy enough. ‘Hey, sorry, I know I said I’d help out but it turns out I kinda suck at baking, should I just go buy some cupcakes or something, or slip a fifty over to compensate?’ Bro rehearsed options in his head as Dave ran back down the stairs and slipped on a set of sandals, joining Bro on the walk to the white house down the street. He knocked once, then twice before hearing James’ voice call for John to answer the door for him, that his hands were full.

“Hello?” John said, popping his head out the door before grinning and opening it wider. “Dave!”

“I brought that new game I told you about, the one with the different classes’n character creation and stu-”

“Come upstairs, you can show me!”

Before Bro could even say ‘Wait a second’, the two were bounding upstairs to John’s room, talking about the game and all the endings that could be unlocked. Bro let himself in and headed towards the noises in the kitchen, leaning against the doorway to take in what he saw more clearly.

James stood at the counter with his back towards Bro, shirt sleeves rolled up and an apron tied around his waist. He was manually mixing something, a broken stand mixer laying derelict and unwashed not far from him, and a small army of cupcakes waiting to be frosted dominated the table along with a single pound cake. James turned after a moment of being watched, sighed, then smiled gratefully.

“If you’re here to lend a hand, I could use six. My mixer broke down, the other moms backed out, and I don’t think I can make it all in time. How many did you wind up getting done at your place?”

“...Zero,” Bro admitted, hurriedly adding “but I’m here to help” once he saw James’ face fall. “There was some incidents that caused my baking to suck ass, but I think I can handle bein’ a baker’s apprentice.”

“Language,” James said, before immediately starting to give instructions.

With Bro’s help, James managed to finish the chiffon cake he was working on, and got Bro started on a slab of brownies. The stove was going full tilt and had been for some time, leaving the kitchen overly warm and stuffy despite a helpful window being open to the back yard. Bro was thankful he had short sleeves normally, but couldn’t help noticing how flushed James was getting.

“Why not lose the tie? Or switch to a tshirt? You’d be cooler that way.”

James made an uncertain noise before finally sighing and nodding. “You’re right. I shouldn’t keep working in this, I’ll get things on it even with the apron.”

That wasn’t what Bro had meant, but considering James set his bowl down and started to unbutton his shirt right there in the kitchen, he kept his mouth shut and kept his golden eyes trained on James’ fingers instead. He wore a white tanktop as an undershirt, Bro realized first. He was also ripped, he realized quickly second. Masked by the work shirt had been a wide chest that appeared to be either meticulously waxed or shaved, and broad muscled arms that flexed as he folded his shirt carefully over his forearm and went to the laundry room to deposit it and the tie on top of the washer to keep it out of the way

“Much better,” he sighed, taking up his bowl to begin mixing once again.

Bro didn’t bother to mask his interested staring as he started to mix once more as well, head canted to the side to get a better view. If that clarification on his orientation before had been an invitation, it wouldn’t be too much of a surprise to get interest, right?

He’d read him correctly. James smirked cockily when he realized how closely he was being observed, and murmured Bro’s direction.

“Do you like what you see, then?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Language, young man.”

Bro’s cock ached briefly, and he hummed to compensate for it. Oh, it was play time then? He was game.

“Sorry, daddy.”

“Is that how it is, hmm?” James said, glancing over in amusement before looking to his own bowl once more. “I didn’t peg you to be that much younger than me.”

“That a requirement?” Bro asked.

“Not necessarily,” he promised. “Though if you keep mouthing like that, I’ll have to take you over my knee.”

“That a fuckin’ promise?”

James huffed a laugh before scooting closer to Bro’s side, bumping their hips together. “Do you always flirt this much with men?”

“D’you always flirt back?”

“Touche. It’s. ...It’s been a while,” admitted James. “If I make you uncomfortable, please just let me know and I’ll rein it back in. I’d hate to make things awkward.”

“You flirtin’ is the opposite of a problem,” said Bro. “I’m more surprised nobody’s taken a bite outta you yet, the cougar scene here is feral.”

“Feral, yes, and all very very married,” he explained. “I’m not one to do those sorts of things, or encourage those sorts of things. And between John and work, the PTA, the HOA organizing and upkeep, the house… a lot of things have just been left to the wayside.”

“I know the feelin’,” Bro said, recalling his own neglected libido. Having a kid changed shit, and being the sole provider and source of entertainment and comfort at home for said kid changed shit even more intensely.

They were quiet for a time, mixing and listening to the timer tick down near the oven for James’ chiffon cake, and the noise from the boys upstairs playing their game. The air was warm and sweet, and Bro felt comforted in knowing that at least for now, the interest was mutual. When James slowly stopped mixing and leaned Bro’s direction, Bro met him halfway for the kiss, chaste and cautious at first, before growing more intense as the sensation expanded. Soon enough their bowls were abandoned in the literal heat of the moment, Bro fisting his hands into James’ shirt and James’ hands finding their way to Bro’s narrow hips. They rested there before slipping further back, grasping his ass and squeezing with both hands as if he were a master baker appraising the preparedness of freshly risen bread dough. Bro groaned in the back of his throat and tipped the kiss deeper, pursuing James’ tongue with his own when he was granted access beyond his teeth.

It was the timer going off that forced them apart and reminded them of where they were, breathless, aroused, and briefly confused in the middle of the kitchen. Bro rubbed his mouth with the back of a gloved hand for a moment and cleared his throat as James went to fetch the cake and set it to cool on a wire rack.

“I think,” James said, “that this may take all night. Or at least a good portion of the evening, even with help. If you’re willing, I’d say this calls for the boys to have a sleepover and some pizza, unless you’d prefer to sweep them to your home for supper.”

“Nah, pizza’s fine,” Bro said. “I’ll pay for half. Pretty sure they’ll be stoked, Dave’s never had a sleepover before.”

“He can go get what he needs for tomorrow morning then, and have a nice evening here with John. ...And you can have a nice evening with  _ me  _ if the interest is there.”

“Yeah, I ain’t goin’ anywhere, already said I’d help bak-”

James, still wearing his oven mitts, came close and grabbed Bro by the squared chin, pulling him into a kiss once more before pulling back and patting his cheeks on both sides with the plushy items. “That’s not what I meant.”

  
  
  
  
  


\- - - - - - - - - - - -

  
  
  


Late that night the boys were fed, and long after their usual bedtime had gone to sleep watching one of John’s favorite movies in his room. The kitchen was the scene of baking majesty, with fresh buttercream frosting being applied to cupcakes, cookies, and cakes alike, brownies being cut and wrapped with plastic wrap, and everything dirty being washed so nothing piled up. James and Bro were a well oiled machine, only managing to keep their hands off one another by virtue of needing to finish the task at hand before they could get handsy on purpose.

Didn’t stop them from teasing each other, however.

A kiss here, a grope there, some whispered lewd words and filthy suggestions. When the last item was in the oven and Bro was washing the bowl and rubber spatula, James settled behind him and caught one of his wrists, twisting his arm behind his back and pinning him in place for one solid promising grind against his ass. From the feel of it, the guy was more than ready to play, and Bro knew once that timer went off he was going t-

“Dad?”

James and Bro froze in place, caught red handed, and glanced over. John was rubbing his eyes at the entry of the kitchen, groggy and without his glasses, a Slimer plush in one hand. “...Can I have a glass of water?” he yawned.

“Of course, son,” James said immediately, dropping his grip on Bro and hurriedly getting a fresh glass and cool water from the filtered pitcher in the fridge. “Do you want the glass with you?”

“Yeah,” John murmured sleepily, taking a slurp before tottering back towards the stairs with his toy, planning on finishing the rest in his room either before going to sleep or when he woke up in the morning. “G’night dad.”

“Goodnight, John.”

“...How much can he see without his glasses,” Bro asked curiously once he heard John’s door close upstairs.

“Next to nothing,” James promised. “My but that was close.”

“Kind of a thrill, huh?”

“Yes, but the type I’d prefer to avoid,” he chuckled. “I’d much rather have my cake and eat it too rather than risk being caught having it at all.”

“It’s cake with you all the way down, huh,” Bro asked with a smirk.

“It would appear so, yes. Something something that’s just how the cookie crumbles.”

Bro groaned softly at the dad joke before glancing towards the timer. It hadn’t gone off yet, but James had a preternatural sense when it came to baked goods and their done-ness level. He was already sticking a toothpick into the center of the brownies and pulling it out clean with a pleased smile. Pulling on his mitts, he withdrew the pan and set it on top of the stove instead of on the cooling rack, turned off the oven, and muffled the timer as he turned its ticking hand to the off position.

“I believe,” James said, “that it’s time to have my dessert now.”

They were quiet going upstairs, checking on the boys and their still playing movie as they slept. After heading to James’ room and making sure the door was shut tight and locked, the dam finally broke. They reached for each other at the same time, hungry, desperate, and finally entirely alone, clinging to one another for balance as their hands roved, trying to learn and memorize every inch of flesh. James reached up beneath Bro’s shirt and tugged insistently to get him to take it off, surprised when he not only complied, but ditched the shades too.

“You’ve lovely eyes.”

“They run in the family,” he snorted, freezing when James reached forwards and gently tweaked each of his pierced nipples. “Jesus fuck, warn a guy.”

“Didn’t I say I’d take you over my knee if you kept using that language?” James asked near Bro’s ear, pinching just a bit harder to make a point.

“Think grapefruit’s a good word?” Bro asked casually.

“I think it’s lovely.”

“Excellent,” Bro said, before clearing his throat. “Fuck.”

James was stronger than he looked. No sooner had Bro cursed again, James had lifted him like he weighed nothing and dropped him on his waiting bed, something that Bro had never had happen before. While still processing his surprise, James reached down and pulled Bro’s belt off, repurposing it around his wrists instead, rounding them a few times before pulling tight.

“Grapefruit?” he asked.

“Nah. Not even one of those shitty lil mandarin oranges,” Bro promised, smirking as he gave his fingers a testing wriggle. Yep, not too tight, not too loose.

“Language,” James said, though his tone was less playful now. The switch had been flipped, and Bro felt his stomach flip excitedly. Yes. Perfect. This was what he was after, that look in his eye, that tone, the way he slowly sat on the edge of the bed. “Now, come here.”

Didn’t need to invite him twice. Bro toed his shoes off over the edge of the bed before rolling to his stomach and rising to his knees. He walked that way towards James before being tugged down across his lap, a bit startled when he didn’t get smacked right away. Instead, James had reached up and grasped the back of his pants and boxers in one go, pantsing him and leaving him exposed in back while his aching dick was caught in the fabric up front against James’ thighs.

The first slap was like thunder, shocking Bro’s system and catching a hiss of air in his throat as he grit his teeth. The pleasure came a moment after the initial startle and pain, spreading warmth from the side of impact all the way up his spine. James aimed his slaps methodically, using just enough force, not stopping till both cheeks wore cherry red handprints and were stinging. Bro could already feel the wet spot in his boxers up front, knew his eyes were watering, but he was light headed from enjoyment. He knew he was into some shit, but who knew he’d get off this hard to getting spanked? Maybe it was just feeding into the Daddy image he’d built up of James in his head since first spotting him in the grocery store, but whatever the source, it was a potent cocktail.

“Jesus,” Bro panted, lifting his head when James lifted him upright. He hugged him, held him close, crooned softly against his neck. 

“You did so good for me… so good. What a good boy you are.”

Another groan escaped Bro, desperately this time, as he realized just how much he wanted this. Needed this.

“Christ, I need you to fuck me soon or I’ll snap and do it myself.”

Instead of chiding him on his language again, James clucked his tongue at him and set him back on the mattress. “Give me just a moment, then.”

Just a moment turned into two long moments, then three as James took out a condom and a bottle of warming lubricant from his bedside table, then stood and casually undressed, making sure Bro got plenty of a good view. The rest of his body was just as neatly maintained, every inch perfect. And boy did he mean every God given inch, the thirst only increased. When James came closer, Bro rolled to his back and settled his head over the edge of the bed, pointedly looking upwards at James before smirking cheekily and opening his mouth.

“...Would this be an invitation?”

“More like a demand.”

“Just lift your arms if you need to stop,” James murmured, holding his length for a moment before coaxing it downwards against Bro’s waiting tongue with a soft moan. He tapped it a few times, giving him a good taste, before feeding a bit more into his mouth and taking a half step forwards, bending his knees to make the gesture more feasible. Bro relaxed his throat and worked his tongue, humming eagerly when James fed a bit more of his length towards his throat and then withdrew.

They worked this way for a while, James slowly thrusting in and out of Bro’s mouth, before he finally built up a bit of speed. Off came Bro’s hat, James’ fingers curling into Bro’s hair to hold his head secure as he worked against the back of his throat. Bro drooled freely, catching his breath whenever he was able to, getting off on being used as much as he was getting off on making James feel good. Yet, just when Bro was sure he’d get a load to swallow… James suddenly pulled back and let go of his head.

“How much preparation do you normally need?” James asked breathlessly.

“It’s been a while, I’d need  _ some _ , especially to take that,” Bro said honestly, licking his lips, eyes cloudy with want. 

James was, if nothing, a gentleman. Instead of being fast and dirty with the lubricant, he instead settled down next to Bro’s side and helped him get rid of his pants entirely, giving him a few healthy strokes with a firm hand before even opening the bottle’s cap. When he did finally spread some of the gel against his opening, Bro lifting his legs and parting his knees to make it easier, James caught Bro’s mouth in a kiss to muffle the noises he was soon making. Each moan was swallowed and rewarded with more working of his finger, occasionally adding a bit more lubricant as needed before adding a second finger. The liquid spread its warmth, helping Bro relax around him enough to add a third and splay them out a few times, only to tense like a vice again when he found his prostate and began to pointedly assail it.

Bro would have begged for mercy had James not been pausing the kiss now and then to praise him, to encourage him, to tell him how good he was being. It made him bull headed, wanting to prove how much stimulation he could take, even if he was damn near ready to cry with relief when he finally took his fingers out and moved to kneel beside him. James popped the condom out of its packaging and pinched the tip, rolling it down over his length as Bro watched, hands up over his head again as he waited, lips parted to catch his breath. 

What position would they be doing this in? Doggy style? Would he have him stand up, bend him over something? What did this guy have up his sl-

“Oh God damn it.”

“What?”

James sighed and rolled the remnants of the condom off, tossing it into his small bedside trash can. “I knew that it was old, but I thought, since we weren’t dealing with a risk of pregnancy, it would at least be useful for a  _ while _ .”

“I’m clean,” Bro promised with a smirk. Bareback? By all means. Maybe if he was an extra good boy he’d earn a creampie for his troubles, what with all the baking puns. A little extra cream filling in his doughnut, as it were. Though, he’d never say no to a little glaze. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t wanna get dressed again just to hit up a gas station at one in the mornin’ like a teenager.”

“No, you’re right,” James said, sizing Bro up again before slicking a bit of lube onto his cock, squeezing a few times near the base as if readying himself.

Bro didn’t get a kinky position. What he got instead, as James came closer and knelt between his knees to line up, was missionary. Fairly sweet missionary, at least to start with. He was slow and steady to enter, following Bro’s cues to find a pace, murmuring praise in his ear as if it were the filthiest things imaginable instead of just telling him what a good boy he was being now. They did the trick all the same: Bro was eating every word up and asking for more, arching his back and hooking his tied wrists around James’ neck to keep him close. When he bottomed out, however, James bit his shoulder softly, just enough to leave a small mark before stirring himself in place, testing the limits before he pulled back. 

James was a gentle lover, although the fire between them was anything but. What started as a gentle rhythm had soon advanced to strong thrusts and shock pulls, James bracing Bro’s hips and pulling him forcefully down onto his dick each time he pushed forwards, enhancing the slap of skin against skin as the tempo grew more intense.

“ _Hands_ ,” Bro finally gasped, arms shuddering around James’ neck impatiently as he tried to tug loose on his own.

Without a word, James reached up and loosened his belt with one hand, letting Bro get a hand loose from the other. The first thing he did was rake his short nails across James’ back in an arching pattern, earning a hiss and another bite from James against his shoulder. Then, he lowered them to James’ ass, grasping the same way he’d been grabbed earlier, kneading the tensed muscles for a moment, before he felt it better to just hold on best he could to his broad back.

“Out?” James asked breathlessly all at once, bright blue eyes electric as they looked down to gold.

“ _ Don’t you fucking dare _ ,” Bro growled, tugging him down into a kiss.

The tempo broke down not long later, stuttering as James came, continuing for several hard, spaced out thrusts before finally slowing to a steady stirring motion as it had begun. Breathless they clung to each other, kissing, sharing air… before they both started to quietly laugh. The evening had all led up to this Earth shattering event, and yet on the other side and in hindsight they’d been just as eager as a couple of horny teenagers on date night instead of the grown men they were. It was silly, really, but neither of them had regrets.

They rose not long after and quietly showered, assisting each other here and there, before drying off and coming back to change the sheets. James took a pipe up and lit it, taking a few pulls before releasing a cloud of cherry scented tobacco smoke, sweet and heavy to the air.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Bro admitted, lounging on his back, relaxing under the soft blanket groggily. He wasn’t the one that had to be up and at an office in a few hours. If James wanted to stay awake a bit longer and smoke to wind down, then that was just fine by him.

“Do you not enjoy smokers?”

“Nah, I don’t care. I used to, ‘fore the prices per pack went up,” Bro explained. “Before things were stable, it just got to be too much to afford with everything else.”

James hummed and took another pull before leaning over Bro, lifting his chin with his free hand and kissing him, letting the sweet, thick smoke fall like water into his lungs. Bro closed his eyes lazily and inhaled the shotgun, exhaling leisurely dragon’s vapor as James pulled back. He licked his lips.

“Careful, I might get hooked on that.”

“Keep it in mind while we’re selling sweets this evening,” James said, relaxing against the cushions again. Bro canted his head, watching the way James’ neck extended, how his adam’s apple rose and fell as he swallowed after the smoke.

“...Hey. This a one time thing, or…?”

“I don’t think I could handle this being a one time thing,” James chuckled. “...But I’m not prepared to leap into immediate commitment. I couldn’t do that to John if anything were t-”

“Oh, nah, nah, I get it. Me either honestly. Let’s just see where this shit takes us.”

James smirked at him.

“Language.”


End file.
